


Much to the Entity's Amusement

by camijan



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Gore, Inspired by Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Love Triangles, M/M, Might as well post it, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, and this is what i write, im failing this semester, maybe slow romance? idk how to pace things, this was for my friends but oh well, we're a few thousand words in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camijan/pseuds/camijan
Summary: The Entity is alive and well, her grasp on the survivors ever so constricting, controlling their lives like lambs to the slaughter.Each one fights for survival, desperate to stay alive through these impossible times.But, what will happen when desperation breeds romance?This is no place for love or foolishness, but The Entity allows it.Much to her amusement.
Relationships: Claudette Morel/Meg Thomas, David King/Dwight Fairfield, Dwight Fairfield & David King, Dwight Fairfield/David King, Dwight Fairfield/Kate Denson, Kate Denson/Dwight Fairfield/David King
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. [1] gambling and cigarettes got me here

The Entity’s appetite was particularly empty today. Maybe she was bored with the survivors- or she was preparing for something far, far worse. Whichever it is, it was of no concern to the survivors. At least, not at the moment. The growing herd of human livestock took the day with refuge and peace, a day in which no trials were held.

Ever since the first few entered the Entity’s realm, a small sanctuary had been constructed- a makeshift home for the tormented. Supplies and necessities were foraged, The Entity leaving them as small tokens of pity and humility. Tents were set up and the campfire grew ever larger with each addition to the herd. Each survivor had adapted to the environment, becoming more accustomed to their new, endless lives.

Today was different. It was a day of rest, to relish their lives for once. Early in the morning, the sun rises in a uniform grey. In reality, no sun ever rises and no stars ever dot the sky. The world is always painted in two shades: grey and black. One to signal the day and the other, the night. No one is eager to see either.

In the morning, conversation is exchanged, the new addition still silent in her shared tent. It’s a lucky break for her as well. No one knew how they understood The Entity- they just did. Her call and beckon draw survivors in for a trial, the fog overwhelming their minds until they happen upon whatever cursed location she would take them. Today, a warmth enveloped them, as if the sun had actually risen from its grave of ash and mist.

So, they knew. The Entity was content, and graced them with whatever peace she allowed, much to the gratitude of the group.

“Mornin’ Dwight!” A comforting voice echoes in Dwight’s tent, waking him from another dreamless sleep as he fumbles to find his glasses.

As soon as his vision was restored, a smiling face greeted him, Kate Denson. Her eyes sparkle with a near-childish positivity, knowing well that the day was one free of blood and sacrifice. “Good morning, Kate... “ His gaze averts, unable to maintain eye contact as he stretches, readying himself for the only day of tranquility he has seen in ages. Her curled hair bounced as she beamed at the awkward man, country accent laced in her voice, “It  _ is  _ a good morning! I’m not gonna get my rear end kicked by one of ‘em monsters, and neither are you!” 

“C’mon, rise and shine!” Her words rang in a sing-song manner as she opened the tent flaps, allowing all the grey light to flood inside. A groan left Dwight’s lips, eyes quickly adjusting to the dull lighting of the fog. The campfire was surrounded by survivors, talking, laughing, telling stories. A few were absent from the main group, taking a walk through the looping forest or sleeping as late as they desired. It was almost blissful to see the team so relaxed. Meg jogged past the group, running laps in an endless trail, Quentin and Laurie chatted amongst each other, and Claudette sat contently at her makeshift table, examining plants and offerings which grow in the fog.

Kate offers her hand to the leader-figure, and he takes it hesitantly. With ease, the southerner helps him to his feet, another yawn escaping him as he finds his balance. “We’re all pretty much relaxin’ and whatnot, a few survivors are playin’ cards and bettin’ items, wanna join?” Gambling never goes well amongst the group. Arguments break loose and very rarely blows are exchanged, but all grudges formed are short-lived. Everyone needs each other for survival, and losing a card game isn’t worth letting another suffer. But today, grudges would last until tomorrow. 

“I’ll pass, but I’ll just… watch everyone. Make sure nothing too bad happens.” Dwight shrugs his shoulders, perfectly content with just watching, but moderating the scene would ease his anxiety just a bit. That and Dwight was never a good gambler, having lost almost every game he had been invited to. “Sure thing! They’re over by the campfire.” He trailed behind Kate, awkwardly fiddling with his tie until they reached the group, a small gathering surrounding the two players. One of them was Ace- as expected- and the other was David King.

And by the sound of it, David was losing.

“Yer a bloody fuckin’ cheater- there’s no fuckin’ way in ‘ell you got that!” Ace only chuckled in response to the angry cockney man, “Listen here bub, I’m just playin’ fair and square.” The two sat criss-cross from one another, using a clear patch in the dirt as their playing field. Ace had always carried a deck of cards with him, even the day he had been abducted by the fog. Dwight recalled Ace inviting him to a game of rummy to calm his nerves.

Right now, they were playing two-man poker, of which both were very familiar with. A few silent turns later, Ace claims victor over the game, much to David’s displeasure. Begrudgingly, he hands over the sports flashlight put in place for the bet. But, fair is fair- until it’s not. As Ace offers a handshake to the Brit, a card slips from the inner lining of his sleeve. 

“You goddamn bloody fuckin’-” 

Visconti’s eyes widen behind his sunglasses and the thought of escape ran through his head, “Well, looks like I gotta get back to the tent y’know-” 

Before anyone knew it, David took the other man by the collar, nearly lifting him off the ground. “I was right, you  _ are _ a bloody cheater- I oughta beat tha fuckin’ piss outta you!” As a fist was raised, voices rose in protest.

The only thing that truly stopped David from landing a blow was Dwight. Without another thought, the dark-haired man had intervened, grabbing at David’s wrist mid-punch. This was fairly unexpected from everyone, including Dwight himself. He was rarely confrontational outside of trials, even struggling to maintain eye contact with his fellow survivors. Yet here he stood, his hand firmly wrapped around David King’s wrist.

“I uh...” The grip loosened as Dwight realized what he had done, heat rising at the nape of his neck from all the intense stares, “Please… Please don’t hit anyone, David.” He struggled through his sentence, letting go once David released his grasp on Ace. “Y-Yeah… go take a hike or something, bub.” 

At his words, David’s anger flared once more, ready to resume his previous actions. Again, Dwight intervened, simply laying a hand on the taller man’s shoulder, “C’mon, leave it be…” The taller of the two shot Ace a glare, “You better leave me fuckin’ flashlight at my tent.” Dwight only tugged at his sleeve in response, urging David to move. He complied hesitantly, mumbling something under his breath before turning his back to the group.

So, the two began to walk. There was no particular destination in mind, and as a few minutes passed by, David had taken the lead. The forest was wide and endless, forever looping back to the campfire. No words were exchanged and Dwight simply trailed behind the taller man, silently examining him as they walked. A rose tattoo adorned David’s neck, one that Dwight had only seen a handful of times, but he couldn’t help but admire it under the grey light.

“I can feel yer eyes on me, Fairfield.” At his comment, Dwight averted his gaze, the heat of embarrassment rising on the back of his neck. “Sorry… just never noticed your tattoo that much and-”

“Just spit it out, Fairfield, for the love of god.” David slipped a cigarette out of his pocket, a token from Bill. Soon enough, a flame flickered and plumes of smoke left David’s lips. “Go ahead and scold me, or whatever you do as the leader.” He leaned nonchalantly against an oak tree, eyes cold and hard as he eyed down the dark-haired man.

Dwight was not an athletic man to say the least. Sure, years of running and surviving had slimmed him down and toned him, but the poor man could never hold his own in a fight. And his constant slouching made his figure near-impossible to see, a habit from his years in high school. “You really need to stop getting so violent with the other survivors.” Dwight’s breath caught in his throat, eyes down to the ground with anxiety, “We need each other to survive and-”

Once more, David cut him off, voice low with irritation, “I also need that fuckin’ flashlight to survive, yeah? Had he won that fair an’ square, I wouldn’t ‘ave had to try an’ beat the shit outta him!” He took a quick drag of his cigarette, smoke leaving his mouth as he spoke, “An’ look at me while yer tryin’ to get a point across, I can’t take you seriously when all you do is look at the bloody dirt.”

Dwight bit the inside of his cheek, anxiety beginning to bubble inside of him as he finally lifted his gaze. His eyebrows furrowed nervously- David King was incredibly intimidating to say the least. He was tall, built, and out of all the survivors- he was the strongest. Dwight almost regrets intervening, as he was now alone with the group’s hot head. 

“Look,” The shorter man began to speak, gesturing as he did, “a flashlight isn’t worth punching Ace in the face, there’s always the chance The Entity-” 

“It’s not about the goddamn flash-” 

“I’m not done yet.” Dwight stood his ground for once, arms crossing as he straightened his posture. In his mind, he was trying to imagine himself in a trial, one where such firmness and confidence was required. “Whenever you start fights with other survivors, they won’t wanna trust you when it comes to the trials, it hurts them and yourself.” David rose from his spot on the tree, nearly making Dwight flinch. As the bearded man walked closer, Dwight stepped back instinctively until his back hit the trunk of a tree. “You’ve gotta lotta nerve sayin’ ‘at, Fairfield.” 

“I’m- I’m saying it because it’s true! Also, no one likes getting beat up by their own teamma-” A yelp of surprise interrupted him as David slammed his forearm on the tree’s rough bark, just an inch or so away from Dwight’s head. “That’s what I oughta do to you right now.” The whole scene was very reminiscent of Dwight’s high school years, being cornered and talked down to, being pushed and pulled right before his bullies would beat down on him.

He grimaced at the memory, the nostalgia this situation was giving him. He refused to stoop down this time, he refused to be a laughing stock once more. “Listen here David,” Dwight took a hold of his collar, tugging him closer to his face, “You can beat me up if you’d ever so desire, but it will only prove my point.” A deep scowl tore through David’s lips, and Dwight could smell the smoke on his breath. He gradually released his grip on the bearded man’s collar, readying himself for the worst.

David took a drag of his cigarette with his free hand, and blew the smoke right in Dwight’s face. “And ‘ere I thought you were a pushover.” Dwight fanned the smoke away from his face, coughing at the sudden cloud of tobacco and nicotine, “W-What?” David stood back up to his regular posture, removing his arm from the tree. From Dwight’s perspective, he could really take in the detail of the other man.

A small scar ripped over David’s left eye and his beard was unkempt and messy from the lack of a razor. The British man was a few inches taller, but tall enough for Dwight to crane his neck in order to look him in the eye. He took another drag, this time, blowing it away from Dwight’s face. “You ‘eard me, Fairfield.” 

“I thought you’d be a right pushover, good thing yer not. Otherwise,” He looked down at Dwight once more, but there was less harshness in his gaze this time, “I would’ve beaten you like I had threatened.”

“Good thing you ‘ad the gall to say that shit to me face.” Dwight blinked a few times out of confusion, a little starstruck as to where this conversation led him. 

“So… you were fully expecting to beat down on me?” 

“More ‘r less, yeah.” For a moment, the shorter of the duo stared silently, unable to read David’s intentions. 

“So… you’re not going to beat me?” 

“No, but if ya keep askin’, I might think you’d want me to.”

“Jesus christ.” A sigh of relief left Dwight’s lips, a hand resting on his chest to calm his pounding heart. “Ha, were you really that nervous, Fairfield?” 

A smirk threatened David’s lips, but he held it back in fear of looking too friendly. “Yeah. Before the fog and everything,” Dwight waved his hand about, gesturing to their surroundings, “I wasn’t exactly the type to defend myself.” David cocked an eyebrow, curious. He shifted his weight onto one leg, continuing to smoke in between sentences, “Before all o’ this shit eh? Tell me about it.”

“ _ Really _ ?” Dwight paused a bit, surprised anyone would want to hear about his life, out of all of the survivors. “Really. Now get on with it.”

“Well...” Dwight proceeded to tell him about his life before the fog, being a victim his entire school career, friendless during college, and laughing stock in his retail career. He didn’t exactly have it easy before The Entity. Those around him were the reason for his disappearing, leaving him in the forest to fend for himself in a drunken stupor, only to be abducted by the hellish Entity and her vices.

After his short recounting of the past, David couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit sorry for the man. He had the complete opposite of what Dwight did. He was wealthy, strong, and had every bit of room to fuck up and recover from it. His life was as easy as it could get until The Entity captured him as well.

His thoughts were interrupted as Dwight spoke up, a nervous smile on his lips, “I was a pretty big loser back then, so I did get scared about you beating me to a pulp. Brings back bitter memories.” His gaze averted from the other once more, habitually biting on his nails. “I’m not as weak-willed as I was back then.”

“Good.” David’s gaze faltered, examining things that weren’t particularly important at the time, “Can’t ‘ave a weak leader, can we?”

“No,” Dwight momentarily looked up at him, a small smile on his lips, “I guess we can’t.”

For a while, neither of them spoke. It was an uncomfortably comfortable silence, one in which both had run out of things to say, nothing to add onto the remainder of the conversation. A cold breeze drifted by, and leaves rustled in its wake, patterned shadows trembling on the forest floor. Dwight leaned into the tree, resting as his mind momentarily went elsewhere. The same applied for David as he smoked his cigarette, for an almost comical amount of time. The two just paused in time, silently relishing each other’s company, though neither would admit it if they were asked. 

“Can I have a hit?” Dwight’s voice broke the silence first, almost startling David when he did. His eyes flickered between the cigarette and David, waiting for a response.

“Since when did you smoke, Fairfield?” Finally letting his guard down, David cracked a little smirk, “You don’t seem like tha smokin’ type.”

“Haven’t smoked since I quit sometime in college.” He sighed in response, taking his hand from his mouth and running it through his unkempt hair.

“College, eh? ‘Ave you ever shotgunned someone?” The British man chuckled a little, lighthearted and unconcerned, “I’ll let you if you can shotgun me.”

“Shotgunned? I can’t say I have.” Dwight’s voice rang low, nearly mumbling as he spoke. He knew what shotgunning was, but the idea of doing it with David King of all people rubbed him strangely. It seemed a little scandalous to the nervous man, having only two intimate relations in his life. Shotgunning was intimate, right? Lips nearly closing in a kiss as smoke passes through one and enters the other, it was a little devious for him, to say the least.

Maybe it wasn’t intimate, maybe it was simply David being unpredictable and impulsive. Without another thought, Dwight answers, “I guess I can shotgun you...” His gaze meets the floor once more, a little flustered. He had overthinked the small interaction as per usual with every other interaction. Was this something intimate? Was it just a sputter of the situation? Those thoughts flew by him as the taller man approached him once more, this time, with less violence.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, holding it for a moment before moving in, mere centimeters away from Dwight’s face. David’s lips parted, and so did Dwight’s. They were ever so close to each other, just fractions away from brushing their lips together, a link of smoke connecting one from the other. With his free hand, David placed his weight onto the tree, nearly leaning into Dwight as he took in the smoke greedily.

Dwight savored the bitter taste of the tobacco, letting it settle in his system before releasing the smoke into the cold air. “Fuck...” The anxious man cursed lightly, the sound leaving a mark on the back of David’s mind, “I haven’t had a good cigarette in a while.” The taller of the two stood back, rubbing the back of his neck, a soft heat rising on his nape.

No longer hovering over Dwight, he shifted his weight again, voice ringing with an almost noticeably forced nonchalant, “Bill seems to ‘ave an endless supply of ‘em, I’m sure he’d give you one if you asked.”

The younger man shook his head, smiling casually at David, “I don’t think I’ll get cigarettes from Bill. Don’t wanna restart a bad habit.”

“Anyhow, cigarettes didn’t do much for me, only made me more anxious than I already am.” Dwight shuffled in his place, brown eyes flickering from David to anything else within the expanse of the forest, still unable to maintain eye contact. “Can’t ‘ave ‘at either.” David finished the cigarette, much to Dwight’s internal dismay, putting it out with his boot. 

“So…”

“So?” David replied, repeating the other.

“So will you stop picking fights with the other survivors?” Dwight returned to the original subject, eyes now planted firmly on David’s collar, being the closest he can get to direct eye contact. He was still nervous that the Brit would react poorly, that he would lash out and continue his streak of impulsiveness. But, only a calm sigh left the taller man. David had long since cooled down, knowing that he had overreacted, impulse and anger driving him blind.

Of course, he would never say this out loud, pride lodging the words in his throat. He could never say sorry, but he may show other ways to apologize. “I’ll try.” Dwight’s lit up at David’s words, making eye contact for just a moment, “Really? I’m glad to hear it.” For once, David was the first to break eye contact, taking his gaze off the shorter man. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get back to the camp already. It’s already fuckin’ midday.”

“Sure, let’s go.” Dwight led the way, having memorized the quickest ways to return to camp, years of experience teaching him so. Once they returned, a few glances were exchanged, and a few survivors walked up to the duo.

“Welcome back Dwight, oh, and Mr. hot-head.” Kate teased, a chuckle leaving her lips as David rolled his eyes. “Sod off with that one, Kate.” 

“Actually,” Feng Min chimed in, joining Kate, “You two were gone for at least two hours, a few of us actually assumed only you two got sucked into a trial.”

“Fortunately, that didn’t happen,” Dwight looked over at David briefly, then back to the two ladies in front of them, “We just talked a bit is all.”

“Mhmm. Gotcha.” Feng’s voice rang with a playful suspicion of the two, leaving the scene before David could catch onto it.

“Well, I think I’m gonna find Ace an’ tell ‘em he can ‘ave the stupid flashlight.” David pointed over to the campfire with his thumb, Ace anxiously fiddling with his collar nearby. “I’ll see you later, Fairfield.” Dwight waved him off, a small twinge of disappointment panging him in the chest as the Brit left. Kate was quick to move, wrapping her arms around Dwight’s arm, beaming up at him cheekily.

“Why don’t we go onna walk? I’ve gotta song that I want somebody to critique, why don’t you be that somebody?” Dwight was quickly knocked out of his thoughts, his face turning hot as Kate held herself close to him. “M-Me? I don’t- I’m not really good with music, I don’t-|

“Oh shush, just be there an’ listen to me sing.”

“I- uh…” Dwight looked down at the smiling southerner, finding it too difficult to refuse on account of being too rude, “Alright, I’ll listen.”

From a distance, David watched the encounter out of the corner of his eye, lips pursed as he handed Ace the flashlight in which he attempted to return. “Next time, don’t cheat.” Ace only chuckled nervously in response, not guaranteeing an answer. Something bubbled inside of David as he watched their acclaimed leader wander off into the forest with Kate, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and one which didn’t originate from the smoke.

The rest of the day continued as promised, no trials, no bloodshed. Dwight became an audience to Kate, yet his mind was elsewhere, occasionally handing half-honest compliments to the singer. His mind wandered and wandered until the late hours had arrived and they had long since returned to the camp. A few night owls gathered around the fire, speaking of their anxieties and concerns, but occasionally laughter would leave their tired lips.

Dwight Fairfield laid awake in his tent, eyes glued to its ceiling as he thought about the day slipping through his fingers. Unbeknownst to him, David King did the same. His eyebrows furrowed, creasing his face as he tossed about in his tent. Two men who struggle with both words and feelings, confused and lost on where things stand after today. They had to sleep on it.

Maybe, they were overthinking.

  
Yeah. Definitely overthinking.


	2. [2] it's cold as shit and we're dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Entity re-awakes, hungry- starving.
> 
> Four survivors are sent forth into a trial, unwillingly sating The Entity's hunger.
> 
> A killer is imbued with focus.
> 
> How many will escape its grasp?

The morning came abruptly and harshly so. It was the first trial of the day. The peace and tranquility of the previous day were now lost to them, forced to entertain The Entity once more. Four survivors rose from their slumber, driven awake by The Entity’s calling, their minds now filled with determination and anxiety. They were given an hour to prepare, to gather supplies, offerings, and morale. Oftentimes, morale was the one that slipped past their grasp.

Not with Dwight. His expression was hard with focus, scenarios already running through his mind and what to do in the direst situations. The four stood over the crackling fire, waiting to burn their offerings at the last minute of their precious hour. Meg and Nea spoke freely, talking of other things- more peaceful things in order to calm their nerves. Everyone felt the uneasy air of calmness around them, knowing that in a few minutes, their endless lives would be put on a timer.

On one hand, a sense of ease lifted their spirits, knowing that chances of survival rose the minute Dwight had woken up. In the other, a sense of dread. The Entity often took the beast’s side, and so, survivors were very rarely favored. Not everything goes their way, and most times, it doesn’t. The day of peace had reset their patterned lives, a routine of slaughter and survival temporarily shattered. Their minds were now more fearful, more anxious, allowing more room for fault and error. The Entity had predicted this, and laughed.

Their savored hour had come to an end, conversations halted and eyes anxiously darting from one another. Dwight rose his gaze from the fire and met Davids. Nods of acknowledgment were exchanged, and then, the world turned black.

When they all awoke, the world was covered in snow. The frigid air nipped at their ears and noses, snow fluttering downwards onto their hair and eyelashes. It was cold, to say the least. Two survivors were ill-prepared for the weather, clothes far from suitable for the freezing temperatures of Ormond. Unfortunately, Dwight was one of the two. His white, short-sleeved button-up did little to protect him against the forces of nature, of which The Entity manipulated against them. Everything was to her design, after all.

The abandoned resort creaked and rattled under the heavy weight of snow and death, but it was a way-point for the survivors. The building made a method to orient themselves inside the trial’s fenced-in field, and it was commonplace to gather inside of it and begin strategizing. The wind blew harshly, burning into Dwight’s face and hands, delicate snowflakes becoming icy daggers against his skin. Unfortunately, the killer won’t be the only force they struggle against.

Dwight bit his lip, pushing himself to get to the depraved building, crunching snow and grass underfoot. Once he made it, the building felt like a small haven under The Entity’s frigid wrath. A sizable fire roared in the center of the decrepit room, contained by a wrought iron fire pit, which survived intact after years of use and damage. He was the first to arrive, already drawn near the fire like a moth to light. It was cold and his fingers already felt numb to the touch. Hopefully, a monster would kill him first before the hypothermia, though, neither are particularly desired.

Two sets of footprints follow closely behind. Dwight raises his head, ready to dart out of the building, but he is pleasantly met with Nea and Meg. If Dwight was having a conflict with the temperature, Meg was having a full-blown battle. Her entire body shook from the temperature, her shoulders and elbows bright red from the icy wind. Nea was kind enough to lend Meg her flannel temporarily, but it still wasn’t enough. The cold dug deep into her, clothes skin-tight and made for running now rendered useless.

“Shit.” Dwight stood from his spot at the fire pit and helped Meg towards the flame, her legs nearly shaking beneath her. The look on her face was one of dread as she crouched by the fire, thawing her frozen fingers. “Are you alright?”

Meg only shook her head in response, teeth silently chattering behind closed lips. “I can let her use my flannel for a little longer, I’m used to the cold- but this is still a little past my own limit.” Nea rubbed the back of her neck, grimacing at the sight of Meg’s shivering frame. If there was nothing they could do for her, she would surely die first. The weather was already affecting her psyche, and the stress did little to provide her body with heat. It burnt to breathe the freezing, dead air of Ormond, it was even worse to exist in it.

A last, final set of footprints began to trek towards the building, each step full of intent. Again, Dwight readied himself to run, eyes trained on the entrance of which they echoed from. To their horror, a hulking figure appeared in the decaying doorway, skin ashen and cracked from The Entity’s manipulation, a near armor made of skin. Hooks and steel thorns adorned its shoulders and arms, and a bone mask framed its face, a terrifying grin of iron nails and shrapnel aimed towards the trio. This monster was familiar to the three, one which had been there since the beginning, and was known solely as ‘The Trapper’.

Surprisingly, Meg was the first to act. She selflessly released herself of Nea’s thick flannel jacket, throwing it towards her as she stood to her feet, ready to run.

“Scatter!” Dwight’s voice reverberated harshly inside of the building, his firm instructions followed without hesitation. Both him and Meg ran outside the same exit, but Nea was unfortunate enough to catch The Trapper’s attention. A silent nod of encouragement was sent her way, one that both asked and motivated.  _ ‘You can do this.’  _ Nea understood, and she ran.  _ ‘Distract him and survive.’  _ Soon, the building, The Trapper, and Nea were all out of sight as Dwight and Meg ran through the snow.

By the time the two stopped running, a single generator rang out, an indication one had been finished. David. Their heavy breaths burnt their nose and lungs, ice seeping deeper and deeper into their systems as they headed towards the lit generator. Meg had begun to lag behind, petite body unable to withstand the cold in her track field clothing. Dwight was cold, but his thick khakis and sturdy dress shoes made it more bearable. They arrived at a small structure, maze-like in its quality, tiles and walls seemingly half-built with windows and gaps. Meg stopped in her tracks, shoes soaked through with snow and ice, legs nearly buckling underneath her.

His eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed into a grimace as he stopped and began to search inside of a chest nearby. There had to be something. Something that would prevent Meg from freezing to death. She stood nearby, having found a metal barrel fire to unthaw herself once more. Dwight’s fingers had long since lost their feeling as he found nothing of use except for a camping aid kit, which was of little use right now. “Goddamn.” Meg cursed under her breath, a plume of condensation leaving her chapped lips, “I’m gonna freeze to dea… death before that monster gets me.”

“I’d- I’d honestly prefer the monster.” Dwight frowned at her comment, despondency never got them anywhere in the trials.

“Let’s pray that neither happen, and that we find something to help you.”

“Great. L-Let me just ask The Entity to drop- drop down a mink fur lined Prada c-coat…” Her voice was thick with sarcasm, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks as the wind blew harshly into her eyes. Dwight sighed, frustrated, while Meg averted her gaze and muttered a small apology for her pessimism. Killers themselves were never affected by such trivial things like the weather or temperature, and most times, survivors weren’t affected either. It just seemed as if Lady Luck had left their side, if she were ever there in the first place.

The familiar crunch of snow underfoot entered their short-lived conversation. Dwight peeked his head from the wooden wall, checking for friend or foe. Thankfully, it was a friend. David King glanced over, his gaze meeting Dwight’s as he surveyed the surroundings. A quick wave of recognition was exchanged from one another, signaling to come closer to the maze-like tiles.

“Oi, you two doing alright?” David’s voice was gruff, his throat dry from the stale, cold air. He quickly went behind a tile wall, precautious as to not grab any unnecessary attention. 

“I could be better,” Dwight answered back, rubbing his hands against his arms, making any attempt as to warm up, “Meg, though…” He gestured towards her with his thumb.

She raised her gaze from the steel drum fire, meeting David’s, “I’m going to freeze to death by the time we get three generators done.”

“I won’t be of any help if I’m constantly freezing, and last we saw Nea, she was giving The Trapper a run for his money.” Her gaze flickered over to the faint silhouette of the resort, “At least, I hope she is.”

Dwight bit at his lip anxiously, what could he do? He was supposed to increase the effectiveness and survival and morale but he was hopeless right now. Meg would die out here in the cold, a more peaceful death for sure, but one that was long and harsh. No one wanted to die, and albeit they always came back, the experience was always brutal on the mind. Traumatizing, even. Lost in his thoughts, Dwight began to pace, something which he rarely did. His mind was racing, the beginning of the trial was already difficult, meaning it didn’t bode well for the rest of it.

He was knocked harshly out of his thoughts as David grabbed him by the shoulders, nearly shaking him out of his contemplation. “Get a ‘old of yourself, Fairfield! We don’t need you being a nervous wreck.” Dwight knew he was correct, but his mind continued to race, eyes constantly flickering from one spot to another. Until they landed on David.

“Your jacket.”

“Eh?”

“Lend Meg your jacket, you have a sweater underneath, right? You can survive in that sweater.” Dwight’s brown eyes were pleading behind his thick, framed glasses, “You’ll get the jacket back eventually.”

David’s gaze switched between the shorter man and Meg, her attention caught on something other than their conversation. She was still shivering, her sleeveless top exposing skin to ice and snow. Blood vessels worked hard in her body, narrowing at the extremities and flushing her shoulders and elbows in a bright red. Without help, Meg would lose coordination, consciousness, and eventually succumb to cardiac arrest. Hypothermia would kill her slowly and painfully. David knew this. 

He grumbled something under his breath before removing his jacket, a grey woolen sweater underneath. The sweater was thick enough to shield him from the forces of nature, yet fitting enough to line the muscles of his body. Dwight looked away, knowing David was quick to pick up on his fits of staring. The taller British man walked over to Meg, tossing it over for her to catch. Her eyes widen at the charity from David of all people, mumbling a quick and genuine thanks to him.

The jacket was many sizes too large for her smaller, slimmer frame, but it provided much needed heat from both the thick material and the previous wearer. She quickly fastened it closed, keeping the heat insulated as she stood from her spot. Nimble fingers undo braids as she lets her hair cascade downwards, providing minimal, but much appreciated heat to her head. Meg had a more determined look on her face, less hopeless, less cynical. “Nea’s been running that damned killer forever. We need to get generators done  _ now _ .”

Nods of acknowledgment rise and are traded once more as the newly formed trio set to find a generator. The cold felt less harsh, less painful as they ran against the wind. Before, the snowflakes set their faces and hands aflame with an icy burn, but now, their minds were too preoccupied with something of more importance: survival. Looking towards the sky for any sign of a generator, they are quick to find its flickering lights, unable to retain a constant luminescence with unstable electricity. A three-person generator comes into view and they begin to work without hesitation.

While on the generator, they examine their surroundings, to orient themselves is something necessary to their survival. A pallet stood a few meters away between piles of abandoned trash, a small looping area to distract and survive. Even further was another maze-like structure, full of windows and a pallet or two if they’re lucky. Having participated in these brutal trials over and over again allows them room to learn and remember. Structures and areas often repeat, but not everything is the same. It would be much too easy if everything were the same, for both survivors and killers. 

Numb hands and fingers worked tirelessly to repair the broken generator, Dwight mumbled instructions to the two beside him, increasing their efficiency greatly. After years of studying and fixing these machines, he had nearly perfected the repairing of one. If they were to ever escape The Entity’s grasp, he would make a damn good repairman. After a few minutes, they had almost completely finished the generator, electricity practically buzzing off of its heaving metal frame. Then, the sound of metal clamps echoed through the resort, followed by an ear-piercing scream. Nea had stepped into a well-placed trap.

Meg stood from her spot, ready to run after their teammate, but Dwight was quick to interrupt her. “Get back on the generator, it’s nearly done.”

“But what about—“

“Just a few more minutes, we can go get her after this has finished, I’m sure she’ll live.”

Meg’s eyes flared with a fit of short-lived anger, “But she’ll get hooked! That’s fucking painful, Dwight!”

“You weren’t going to reach her anyway, she’s across the entire map. We need to get this generator done, or else we’ll be wasting more time.”

The ginger woman pursed her lips, holding back a few bitter words before returning to her spot on the generator. She knew he was right. Nea  _ was _ across the entire resort, even with her speed, she wouldn’t have been much help for her. After a few painstaking minutes pass, the generator flooded with light, running smoothly with newly renewed energy. And just a moment later, their stomachs dropped. Another scream pierced the cold air, ringing in their ears as the familiar voice cried out. Their teammate had been hooked.

Their understanding of each other’s lives was just as unknown as their understanding of The Entity. For some reason, they knew each time a survivor was hooked or hurt, sick or asleep. It came as an itch in the back of their minds or a nauseating drop in their stomachs. That awful feeling flooded them with a sense of dread, each of them well aware of the pain and suffering from being hooked on those hellish hunks of metal. 

Each hook was just as painful as the last. Of course, after years of abuse and torment, they gained a small resistance against screaming their heads off or soiling themselves at the pain. Something a few survivors had unfortunately done during their first trials. There was a slim chance at escaping the hooks, but each attempt shattered bones and provoked The Entity’s hunger. Only a handful of survivors were confident in their ability to escape, but unfortunately, Nea was not one of them. She hung there, defeated, soft groans of pain leaving her lips. 

Meg stood once more, with a more determined look on her stern face, “I’m gonna save Nea. You two find a generator and hurry.” 

“We can only hang for so long.” She muttered a small warning, a reminder as she turned on her heel and sprinted from her spot, leaving the two men in the dust.

“You ‘eard ‘er Fairfield.” David turned to Dwight, hope in his voice as he followed suit, readying himself to run for a new generator. “Let’s get to it.”

Dwight only nodded, a small smile creeping onto his lips at David’s unexpected boost in morale. With that, the two trekked through the frozen wasteland of Ormond, quickly finding a generator as planned. But, something was off. A few precious minutes pass on the generator, then the few precious minutes turn into a half-hour. Nea hadn’t been rescued. Meg hadn’t been hurt. So what was happening? Dwight bit at his lip, anxious as he continued repairing the third generator. Hypotheticals and nervous ramblings began to buzz in his head, ones which became apparent as his fingers slipped, causing a small combustion in the generator.

“Oi Dwight, the fuck? Yer the last person I expect ta bust a gen’.” David peered from the other side of the generator, continuing to work on it after the harmless explosion.

“Yeah- I know- just… something’s not right. Nea and Meg-”

Before Dwight could finish his sentence, both men felt that nauseating drop in their stomachs, followed immediately by a woman’s scream. Meg’s scream. Dwight’s fears come true as Meg thrashes about on The Trapper’s thorny shoulder, kicking and punching but to no avail. It wasn’t long before she was hooked herself, a painful sacrifice to The Entity’s appetite. Dwight noted she hadn’t been wounded, seemingly plucked from something- a locker, another generator, maybe Nea herself. But none of that was of any concern as he began to run.

David’s voice echoed behind him, calling out, yelling about something. He wanted to take Dwight’s spot, to rescue Nea and Meg. Not because he had the brave burden of being the team’s savior, but because Dwight would be selflessly putting himself into danger. Out of the four, Dwight was not particularly the strongest at his ability to evade. At times, his quiet, awkward manners granted him a few more minutes of survival- but right now he was not being quiet. He was running, readying himself to rescue his teammates or to die trying.

By the time Dwight reached Nea, those wretched, spider-like arms had completely formed around her. But she was not dead. Beads of sweat formed at her temple as she wrestled The Entity for her life, struggling to keep its horrifying appendage away from her face. Dwight reached for her, the spindly legs retracting at his presence. 

“Fucking shit!” Nea whisper-shouted as the hook slipped from the gaping hole in her shoulder, her shoulder shattered beyond use. 

“Shh- Nea- I’ll get you out of here, we just need to-”

Behind them, a large shadow loomed over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still failing my classes

**Author's Note:**

> jesus christ i'm failing my classes and this is what I do


End file.
